The Art of Transformation
by Volpa
Summary: Hearing soft murmurs to someone that isn't me against this skin that isn't mine, I come to a decision. I don't think I can do this anymore." yaoihet,SasuNa,SakuSas. Hard R.
1. Replacement Technique

Title: The Art of Transformation

Author: Volpa

Chapter 1: Replacement Technique

Disclaimer: I can only imagine how messed all Naruto characters would be if I owned them.

Warnings: Angst, sort of. Yaoi, sort of. OOC most likely.

Pairings: I'm not even sure. But probably mostly SasuNaru, SakuSasu. Or something? I'm trying to be sneaky.

Summary: "And like that - pinned to the table by his weight, hearing soft murmurs of someone else's name against a skin that isn't mine - I come to a decision. I don't think I can do this anymore."

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The first time it happened, Sasuke was drunk.

I wish that weren't the case, but he was quite clearly not himself. I wasn't sure who he was anymore, and it didn't seem like he did, either.

He'd only just returned to Konoha. The retrieval operation had been surprisingly simple, though for years before that, the village artisan's hands had been covered with a perpetual layer of dust. Every month, it seemed that more names of those who tried to find him were carved into the obelisk. Many were sent to retrieve him, and many of those had failed in the most final way.

Sasuke's return took place in a surprisingly calm manner. We'd been waiting for a list of casualties, and were almost shocked when the party appeared, completely intact, with a dark figure in their midst who seemed both alien and familiar.

Sasuke.

It wasn't until a few weeks had passed that we learned of Itachi's death. Sasuke was back for good. We weren't sure whether to be relieved or more afraid.

He was placed under house arrest by Hokage, and after he was released from that, indefinite probation. Sasuke was lucky it had only come to that. After years of following Orochimaru, and of doing so many unsavory things in order to finally take Itachi down, Sasuke had been a hairsbreadth away from a death-sentence.

However, in the council's and Hokage's mind, the Uchiha bloodline was valuable to the village. Hokage was taking a calculated risk. If Sasuke was allowed to settle, if he lived to pass on the power of his bloodline, it would add to the future strength of Konoha. Sasuke was the seed of power, and as such, he was precious. The Hokage limited his movements, and arranged that he be given only the most basic of missions when Konoha's usual working force was stretched thin. He was under strict supervision, and had to remain in the village, reporting any of his movements to the Anbu chief.

If he broke even the smallest of these rules, the Hokage's firm look had made it clear what would happen.

Anyway, Sasuke had just gotten back, and he was drunk that night. Shikamaru and I had dragged him out with us. Well, I guess I did the dragging - Shikamaru just happened to be there, and I didn't really want to go into the Uchiha mansion by myself to get him. We were determined to show Sasuke that everything was the same, even though we knew it could never be. Sasuke was different when he got back - he was a killer. We were all ninja, but he had killed the people of his own village, and made good on his oath to destroy the last of his blood. He seemed closed, and honestly, sort of creepy. However, he couldn't hide the fact that he was, on some level, happy to be back.

Maybe the others couldn't, but some of us could forgive him. Perhaps forgiveness shouldn't have come so easily to me, it was hard to break old attachments. He was part of the team. He had killed so many members of others' teams, but it was hard to think about that when he was back and alive and so damned quiet, like everything that mattered to him was gone. He was. . . he'd always been part of our team, quiet and always kind of pissed off, and now it was easy for me to pretend that he was just irritated with something when that shadow passed over his face. That maybe I'd done something to annoy him like I always used to do, rather than the fact that he was stumbling under the weight of memories I could only speculate about.

We had been drinking because we really couldn't think of anything else to do. Sasuke and bowling just didn't seem to work, and the sake stand was right there. Sasuke was already half-loaded anyway, and it seemed like we should catch up somehow. Shikamaru was called away at some point - probably to pick up some tampons for Ino, because he is so whipped like that. We wandered the streets for a while, and eventually we found ourselves sitting on the couch in my apartment, since his ancestral home was still dusty, broken, and vandalized during his long absence.

In the dark, he had leaned close, smelling of liquor, and kissed me.

I'd always, always wanted that.

So, I kissed him back, hardly daring to believe that it was happening, and it was almost unsurprising when he pulled back. He licked his lips, and I could see them shining wet in the dark.

"That form. . . that jutsu. Do it," he said.

"What?"

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, and I was not thinking very clearly.

"Transform," he husked. "You know, the sexy no jutsu that. . ." he paused, and inhaled just enough to expel the next word. "Please."

What was left of my mind reeled at the request. I was insulted, almost. . . and then, I just didn't care anymore. It was funny how he always did that to me - switched my brain off until all I could do was react. And I guess on some level I'd always suspected. . . but it didn't matter to me. At the time, I was too far gone to care, and too drunk on those cold, cold lips. He was back. So. . . I did, both because I wanted to see how far this would go, and because I was scared he'd leave again if I didn't.

It seemed strange to me. He'd never seemed too interested in that form before, but if that was all it took, it seemed like a small price to pay.

I didn't quite get it, then.

So I did. He lost his hands in that long blonde hair, and licked the markings on those cheeks. He buried his face between those thighs, and then buried his body there.

It hurt alot, that first time. After that, I had to adjust the transformation a bit. Not much, just enough so it wasn't so uncomfortable. Sasuke can be a little rough. It's not intentional - he just loses control.

Now, it's become a bizarre routine. I almost can't imagine what the things we do would feel like if he didn't pull on those pigtails, or suckle those high, round breasts. I can't imagine how it would feel in my natural body.

Because. . . he's never really fucking me. I should say making love, because that's what it is to him. The name spills from his red mouth in stilted syllables. His eyes blaze with blood when he comes. He always fights the sharingan's emergence, because it forces him to see through my jutsu, and to really see what we're doing. The truth hurts.

Sometimes, I return from a mission to find him waiting. He doesn't have much to do these days; he just trains, and wanders in the woods on his own, thinking. Hokage doesn't give Sasuke missions often - and never, ever solo ones. Sasuke is still paying for his treason, and will probably always be paying for it.

Hokage won't even look at him if they pass in the street. The fact that he's an Uchiha makes him valuable, but it doesn't change the fact that he did something unforgivable.

So, sometimes, Sasuke shows up in my apartment. He usually brings ramen cups, which we eat together, neither of us really enjoying it. The food isn't the point, anyway.

The first time he brought them, he threw the cups into the corner when we were done. "Don't," he said quietly when I moved to pick them up. "Leave them."

And, I guess. . . that was when I knew, beyond a glimmer of doubt, what was going on.

But that didn't mean I could stop.

Tonight, he just showed up again, with those damned noodle cups. I poked at the noodles for a second, watching them slowly reconstitute into something resembling actual food.

"Not exactly like the real thing, is it?" I ask dully, before I avoid those black, knowing eyes. I may accuse, but I'm just as guilty.

I know I should turn him away, but this body betrays me every time.

--------------------

Oh, gods. He's deep inside me. I'm bent over the kitchen table, and the edge is digging into my elbows, but I can't bring myself to care. He's got one of his fists wrapped in one of the long pigtails, and pulls back on it. He sinks his teeth into my shoulder as he drives deep. I can feel the sweat on his skin, the damp heat of his breath.

This whole place smells like sex and stale ramen, and gods, I'm almost there.

Oh, god.

He lets out a hoarse, feral growl. Then, he's coming, hips jerking violently against me. He's whimpering, almost crying into the long, blonde hair that isn't really mine.

But that doesn't matter. I come anyway, feeling the hot, sticky wetness running down my inner thigh. He rests his cheek gently against my back. He wraps his arms tightly around my waist, and pants against my skin.

It took some time before I could maintain the jutsu through my orgasm. That disgust that appeared on his face the few times I failed to was a powerful motivator. His look of shame. The hurried way he would leave afterwards.

"Mmn," he murmurs against my shoulder. I can feel it, he's getting hungry again, swelling inside me.

He is never fully satisfied this way. It's like drinking water when you're starving.

And like that - pinned to the table by his weight, hearing soft murmurs of someone else's name against a skin that isn't mine - I come to a decision.

I don't think I can do this anymore.

As I swim in self-hatred, I think to myself that maybe this time, I'll give him what he really wants. He's never asked for it, because I wouldn't be able to pretend anymore if we did it his way. It's a strange sort of kindness.

This arrangement only works if we can both pretend.

I press him backwards and then pull myself off his sex with a wince. He turns, leaning back and propping himself up on the table on the heels of his hands, eyes closed.

I drop to my knees. He's still a little dazed, and lets out a plaintive gasp as I take him in my mouth and suck him in slowly, feeling his slick length slide between my lips.

That's when he looks down. I just stare up at him, trailing my tongue up the underside, and I can feel the moment he registers the spiky blond hair and the muscled, male body, because he twitches into iron hardness against my tongue.

Sasuke's fingers curl into my hair as I swallow him down, and he's staring at me as though I'll disappear, with a look of stunned joy on his face. Then, words start to spill from him in a mad, muted rush.

"Oh god, Naruto," he whispers tightly. "Please just. . . oh god. Please. . ."

He slowly pulls free of me. Then, turning with an almost drunken stumble, Sasuke bends submissively, offering himself. I look at the long, pale lines of his muscled body in shock, lingering at the dark hair clinging to his nape, and the firm muscle of his back, tensed in anticipation.

Then, I'm the one doing the fucking for once. I made it big, but that's justice for you.

Sasuke claws at the floor, begging for more, so it seems he doesn't mind.

"Fuck!" he gasps, "Oh, god, please." He's practically keening. "Need you. . . god, Naruto, l-love you, please, more. . ."

It doesn't take long at all. I hear the sound of his seed spurting wetly onto my linoleum. I know I'm not going to be able to come like this - it's just too weird - but that isn't the point, anyway. After I pull out of him, I am not quite sure what to do.

I can't seem to stop looking at all those damned noodle-cups littering the ground.

Sasuke sure has a messed up idea of ambiance.

He's still lying on the floor five minutes after I withdraw. He's heaving with the effort of breath, skin gleaming with sweat. I figure that I should at least wait a little longer before I tell him to leave, this time for good.

I must be making some sort of movement, because he suddenly gets to his feet and launches himself at me. His movements are panicked, and I freeze momentarily, expecting an attack - but then I feel his arms wrap themselves tightly around my waist. The momentum of his lunge knocks us both back onto the floor, and he just lies on top of me for a moment, head resting on my chest.

"Naruto," he whispers. I almost forgot what form I'm in. He stares at this face for a moment, and then pulls himself up enough to kiss me, and it's. . .

He's never kissed me like that before.

"God, Naruto," he whispers again, and I think he's losing it. He's. . . he's actually crying. "Please, just. . . I'm so sorry." The words, once again, are flooding out of him like he's kept them stopped up too long. But it's too late, really too late. I can see this knowledge in his black eyes, but the red of his sharingan has faded. He can ignore reality a little while longer. I guess I can give him this at least.

One last thing, because I loved him so much, but not enough to keep doing this. Or rather, too much to keep doing this.

"Please, just. . . I'm so sorry," he begs, fingers sinking into my biceps. "Just look at me again. Just. . . just look at me. You don't have to do anything else. Just, please, see me. I can't stand this anymore. I'll never leave the village. Just LOOK at me."

Right then, watching Sasuke curl himself into a trembling, naked ball against me, all pride gone, I realize that our young Hokage didn't have to have Sasuke executed to sentence him to death.

I doubt that Hokage even knows. Despite his very young appointment, and the immense ability that grew into greatness before my eyes, no one can really contest the fact that he's not all that perceptive about this kind of thing. Naruto never even figured out that Hinata liked him.

"Hokage-sama, just look at me, please," Sasuke whispers brokenly. His hands caress my face with such love, like he's touching the most precious thing in the world with his shaking fingers. "Please, you got your dream. And now that I've done my duty, could you please. . . I hoped, when I came back. . . the only thing that got me through. . ." Sasuke hid his face against my chest, not even trying to hide his desperation any longer. "I'd do anything, if you'd just LOOK at me. . ."

That last sentiment sounds so familiar that I'm starting to cry, too, because how many times did I say that to myself? I'd have done anything, if Sasuke would just look at me. And I guess a part of me, a small and petty part, is glad he finally knows how it felt.

If only I didn't still. . .

I did try to prepare myself for this, but I didn't expect him to break down, and it all cuts far too close. "Sasuke," I mutter thickly. It's all wrong, and I don't feel the satisfaction I thought I would. "Please. . . just go. I'm sorry."

He seems to come back to himself, stiffening, and then quickly releases me. Looking down, he quickly gathers his clothes, and puts them on with movements that are jerky and awkward with humiliation. When he leaves, he doesn't hold his head as high as usual, but I'm sure when we next meet, neither of us will be willing to acknowledge what's happened between us.

Not that we ever did before, but it will be different this time. It will be over, and I will know too much.

I sit there for a while in the dark, until the cold of the evening jolts me back into awareness. With a bizarre feeling of satisfaction, I gather all those disgusting ramen cups into a big garbage bag. I will take them outside tomorrow.

When I go into the bathroom to clean myself up before bed, it is with some shock that I see myself still in Naruto's form.

Those bright blue eyes have become a bit harder with the passage of time and the weight of responsibility. The marks of power arc down over strongly angled cheekbones, and his hair is as wild as ever. Some scars are written deep into his tan skin, stretched over hard muscle that he built up over years of training.

He is beautiful.

I look at my reflection - Naruto's reflection - with a hint of pride. I've always been good at transformation; I wasn't top in the academy for nothing.

Finally, I release the jutsu, and watch my smaller body appear from the smoke. My pink hair tumbles in disarray around my pale face. I have red marks on my shoulders and neck; raw patches of skin irritated by the scrape of teeth.

I close my eyes, and think about forgiveness, and other transformations.

When I open my eyes again, I touch one of the pink patches of skin with my fingertip.

It is dark, and I will have to hide them for a while - but these marks will fade with time, as all marks do.

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A/N: I rewrote this a bit to fit better with the next part. Thanks for reading.


	2. Mirror Wheel

Title: The Art of Transformation

Author: Volpa

Chapter 2: Mirror Wheel

Disclaimer: I can only imagine how messed all Naruto characters would be if I owned them.

Summary: "Back then, we'd each have died before we'd allow the other's ass to be kicked by anyone else. But that night, I chose my path, and 'as usual' became 'never again.'"

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If you stay in the dark for too long, emerging is like being scorched. The sun hurts your eyes. The world is bleached of detail, and it is painful to see clearly again. The worst part is that you can't avoid it. A person can't wander blind forever, no matter how much he wants to.

There are two memories that I can never shake. One is something I wish I could forget, but it is too deeply a part of me. It shaped me - sharpened me into what I am. I wish it had never happened.

The other. . . no one would guess it. It seems so inconsequential, but everything in me curls around it as though it's something precious, and refuses let it go. It has a texture that never fades - sight, scent, and sound.

It took me years to recognize it for what it is: an unspoken hope in three dimensions.

I was just a boy then. I still thought I was on the right path. I thought that it was trivial and a sign of weakness, but I was puzzled as to why I couldn't get it out of my head.

I suppose it's a blessing that I never wanted to.

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But first things first. It always comes back to that moment. That terrible moment, and the shadowy, unformed fear that preceded it. The thought that maybe, if I had done something. . .

But I didn't, and I found Itachi in our house that evening, smiling as much as he was capable of smiling as he stood surrounded by corpses. My vision narrowed, focusing with a painful intensity. Any road that didn't lead me to him was useless. All that mattered was strength, because strength would bring vengeance. Morals had no practical use in the task I set myself. Friendship only got in the way.

I took power wherever I could. I tested my ability continually, to see if my capacity was enough to defeat him. It seems bizarre now that I didn't realize how much I was like him. Exactly like him, only less reasonable, and more obsessed. It would be foolish to say I regret it now, because regret means nothing - but when I look back, I wonder if anything could have stopped me. I saw nothing, because I was blind.

Slowly, I managed to make the last Uchiha into a slave, and a murderer.

I became Orochimaru's right hand. I gave my body over to him, bathed myself in the blood of those I once called my allies. Through it all, I had only the faintest reassurance that I could ever evict him of my own will.

The cruelty of it is that I remember everything. I had thought he would simply occupy me, and I was all right with that. But instead. . . he was the serpent whispering in my ear. I felt his urges, but I was still myself. I learned to enjoy it.

I remember the look of sad disbelief on Iruka's face in the few moments after the sweep of my sword, and before his face froze into the sphinx-like mask of a corpse. I sneered then, feeling my own offended pride mingle with Orochimaru's enjoyment of my former-teacher's slaughter. He always went in for that kind of thing. I wondered how thin the forces of the Leaf were stretched, if they would send someone so weak for me. I was an avenger, with Orochimaru's techniques and the power of my bloodline behind me. I was a honed blade, and sending Iruka with his soft eyes and uncertain smile was pathetic.

The force of my hate grew, giving me a fierce, brittle strength. But on the mornings when Orochimaru lay quiet in my mind, that memory would fill my head, and I would feel the confused mass of emotions that always accompanied it. Strangely, it was something that Orochimaru remained unaware of, and couldn't touch. I thought that my hate broke the hold of Orochimaru, because his strength was similarly rooted.

But now, I wonder if it truly was the hate that allowed me to cast him out and destroy him.

I began the endless search for my brother. After being occupied for so long, the quiet in my head felt foreign and unbearable.

It was then, on the last leg of my journey, that I started to think about him constantly. It was strange, but after ten years of being Orochimaru's puppet, nothing seemed very strange. I knew Naruto had become Hokage, because it had been my business to know those who were dangerous to me.

It began slowly, but then - every night, for some reason, my last thoughts were of Naruto. I wondered how many hunters he had after me. I wondered who would win if we fought. I wondered how he'd changed, and if he was happy at finally achieving his goal. I wondered if had ever learned to properly do his laundry. I wondered what he did, how he did it.

I wondered.

And, without fail, that memory always came back to me, unfurling like smoke. It was the problem that I couldn't get rid of - the itch that I could never quite reach. Even after so many years, even after the features of everyone else in Konoha had blurred in my memory, it remained vivid - dyed into me like a bright, indelible stain.

It was like prayer-wheel spinning constantly to the heavens, no beginning or ending, a reel of footage that played me to sleep each night and continued through my dreams.

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I was thirteen at the time, and it had become clear to me that I had to leave. I could see no other way to raise my level. Any reasonable methods were too slow, too unsure. I set about secretly planning my escape, mapped the routes I could take, scoured the family's dusty scrolls for any jutsu that could possibly help me in my journey.

I was prepared. However, when the perfect time arrived, it wasn't quite right for some reason. I didn't feel ready.

Everything had to be right, so I waited one day, and then another.

Ramen cravings started to overwhelm me every day at dinnertime, or so I told myself as I sat down at that familiar counter.

I would have to increase my endurance in anticipation of future hardship, so I went daily to the training grounds and worked for hours, eyes darting in search of someone who never came.

After a day stretched into a week of waiting, I put my pack on my back, and went for one last bowl of ramen. If I put it off any longer and the rains started, one of the roads I meant to take would become impassible. The typhoon season had begun, and it was pure luck that the weather had not yet changed.

That night, Naruto appeared like a whirlwind. He was dirty and slightly bruised from a training trip with the toad-sennin, and nodded at me, a little surprised to see me sitting at his usual spot at the counter. I snorted at this confirmation that the ramen stand really was his first stop whenever he returned to Konoha. He beamed, waved his arms around, and loudly pronounced himself able to defeat me with his newfound, amazing skills.

Drunk on energy, he shouted his order over the counter. Then he nodded at me, sat down next to me and started being as obnoxious and loud as he usually was.

In that stall - with the smell of the coming rains hanging in the air, and Naruto next to me still sweaty from his training - I relaxed on the stool and ordered another bowl, feeling inexplicably relieved. I watched the glare of fluorescent light bounce off the scarred counter, and inhaled the warm, savory steam that rose from our food. I listened to the sound of his voice as he continued to speak to me with a mouthful of noodles. He leveled his chopsticks at me with his usual lack of manners and, as usual, wouldn't shut up.

Sitting there, surrounded with those sights, smells, and sounds, I made a silent wish that I didn't have words for at the time.

Eating never took him long, and when he noticed the bag I had with me, he started badgering me about it. I'd been expecting that. I guess that some part of me had been waiting for him to notice.

I realized, belatedly, that this was that one last thing I'd needed to do.

Not meeting his eyes, I told him that I was going on a training trip, but I would be coming home soon.

I made very sure to tell him I would be coming home, not stopping to think about what that meant. We sat together for a few more minutes. He complained loudly that I was just trying to get one up on him, since he'd gained such strength on his trip. I smirked a little, and slowly finished my ramen. After the last bite, I closed my eyes, feeling the heat of the broth warm me completely in a way I hadn't noticed before.

And that was it.

What a strange thing to fixate on, I thought in the years following. It seemed unreal, like fragments of another person's memories. An uneasy friendship. A strange warmth. A moment in a bright place before the rains began.

A promise that wasn't consciously planned, but had to be made before going - even if both parties involved were too young, dumb and clueless to see it for what it was.

After that, I never strayed until I reached my goal. I wonder now, if he had said something, if he had noticed. . .

But he is Naruto, and Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

That night, when I snuck past the gate guards, I didn't mind that it had started to rain. I blinked the blurring drops of water from my eyes, and straightened my shoulders.

I was a thirteen-year-old boy, a little scared to be leaving home, and a little scared of dying. But, that evening, I had done my last important thing.

I steeled myself against the cold, and I didn't look back.

----------

After I killed that man, I did come home.

Years of the same dream, of those last moments, had slowly shown me what home meant to me. I'd waited all that time so I could finish the business of the past and keep my promise. However, with that knowledge came the sick certainty that it was too late.

He was Hokage. I'd committed too many crimes against the Leaf in my time away. I'd transgressed, burning bridges behind me. It was impossible that the silent wish I'd made so long ago would become real.

My victory against Itachi tasted of ashes. Even if Naruto could forgive me, the Hokage couldn't. He would have none of me - an S-class criminal. A murderer. A traitor.

It was with dread that I went with the Anbu to see him after I got back. And he was. . . he'd become everything I'd known he would, but there was a hardness in his eyes that I'd never seen before when he looked at me. Something in him had compressed into diamond strength.

He had become a leader, and I'd missed all of it.

I hid my shame and my happiness at the sight of him, grown and strong and perfect. I concealed my hunger as I'd hidden everything else, trying hard not to stare. Without a single doubt, I confirmed that what I'd grown to suspect wasn't just a momentary madness - but I forced it all into a bitter ball in my stomach, and tried not let on.

But I couldn't freeze the blood that rushed in my veins. I couldn't stop the way my eyelids fluttered closed, or the shivering hitch in my breath when he laid his warm hands on my skin. He checked the curse seal with a competence that surprised me, making some observations in a low, clipped voice to a thoughtful-looking advisor.

When I looked up at him then, maybe he saw. Maybe he didn't. Some things never change; Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

"Uchiha, go home," he said with a note of finality, "don't even think about going anywhere without getting approval first. You are not permitted to do anything without Anbu escort." He turned to the tall, masked young man at his side. "Konohamaru, look after this for me will ya?"

"Sure thing, Chief."

I glared at the smooth, wooden mask the Anbu wore as he moved to grip my elbow. I'd known this was coming, but it stung more than I thought it would. And home. . . home meant nothing if he wasn't going to be there.

But he was the Hokage, and he was handing me off like I was nobody. It was like he hadn't spent his childhood calling me a bastard and trying to defeat me - like he didn't know me better than anyone else ever could.

He had no idea what it meant to me when I heard the contrast between the stiff way he spoke to me, and the easy warmth in his voice when he addressed the Anbu captain.

I narrowed my eyes, wanting to protest the note of accusation in his voice even though I didn't have a leg to stand on.

He didn't need to keep me on a leash, because I never wanted to leave again.

"I'm not a dog," I said coldly, speaking for the first time since I laid eyes on him again. The others in the room stepped back at the danger in my voice. They were frightened of me, but Naruto. . . Naruto never was scared of me, even when he should have been.

That was when his head came up, attention turned from the document someone had handed him.

He looked at me for real, and for once he was like the Naruto I'd left behind - all reaction and blazing blue eyes. "I know that, Uchiha," he bit out with a shadow of his former temper. "Dogs are loyal." Then, I saw the anger, all that intensity that I remembered. All that passion, directed at me, for all the wrong reasons.

For all the reasons I had made with my own hands.

He got to his feet and looked directly at me, and for once, I was rendered unable to meet his glare when I heard the leashed rage in his voice. "Don't ever push me, you bastard. I was this close to getting rid of you for good. Be glad about your precious bloodline, because that's what tipped the scale."

His voice shook, and the two words that caught in my throat were never going to be enough. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides.

"You killed everyone I sent after you," he went on. "People who stayed and worked with me every day to make Konoha what it is. Iruka-sensei wanted to talk to you even after you attacked the Leaf; he wanted to bring you back because he thought you were still the Sasuke he knew. I told him not to bother, but he thought it was worth the risk, and he worried about you." That endless blue burned into me, even though I couldn't see it. "You gutted him like a fish. Get out of my sight, before I change my fucking mind." He paused. "There's only one reason you're alive right now."

I managed a smirk. "Yeah, one reason," I managed dully, finally able to meet those challenging eyes. "The one reason I'm alive," I repeated under my breath. The words were bitter and half-swallowed, sounding more like an accusation than the unintentional confession that they were. But I was glad to see that, to all appearances, Naruto wasn't going to look underneath my words. He was still a bit oblivious. My stomach felt tight and queasy.

I'd been blind to the one thing that mattered. It had seemed so close that night years ago. I'd been surrounded by the clatter of chopsticks, the warmth of the ramen stall, and Naruto had been smiling at me for no reason besides the fact that we were best rivals, eating ramen together. Back then, we'd each have died before we'd allow the other's ass to be kicked by anyone else.

But that night, I chose my path, and 'as usual' became 'never again.'

I didn't even know the name for what I felt then.

I closed my eyes - these eyes that can penetrate and mimic anything. I couldn't stand to see how badly I'd fucked everything up.

Naruto rarely sees what he doesn't want to.

And now, he doesn't look at me at all.

----------

After that meeting, I returned to my house, feeling too defeated to give the Anbu who followed even a bit of trouble. The place had been vandalized. Years of damage stood unrepaired, and the walls were painted with slurs that I deserved.

I was in no mood to deal with it. Not when, under my clothes, the skin he'd touched still tingled. I imagined I could feel the chakra he'd used to test the long-dead seal buzz through my body. His hand-prints seemed burned into me, like I'd been marked. Despite my guilt, I resented it. I resented being kenneled like a bad dog, and left to whine after him.

I unearthed some pretty foul sake that had been left in a cupboard since forever, and proceeded to drink it while I searched for something to sleep on in the barren closets.

And suddenly, Sakura was there, inching towards me in the dark. For whatever reason, she and Shikamaru ended up dragging me outside with them. And afterwards, we somehow ended up in her apartment and alone. She sat close to me, and it was the wrong voice saying the right words. Saying that I was forgiven.

For the first time, I thought I understood her a little. It was hard to be in love with someone who didn't even want to look at you.

The sake I'd been drinking burned sweet in my belly, making everything blur together.

I remembered how good she was with genjutsu, and the idea seemed all right at the time. I could allow myself this one small thing. We could both pretend. This was the one thing we had in common - we both wondered what it was like to be in love, but not completely alone. We would both know it was false, underneath - but we could try not to know.

It was all wrong, but after that night, we couldn't stop ourselves. I couldn't stop myself, even though the final moment always forced me to to see what we were, and what we were doing. It was twisted and frightening; his false form gazing at me with her hunger. I'd been repulsed when I first saw that look on her when we were children, and I'd laughed when he tried that ridiculous jutsu against me. But, like this, the both of us could imagine that we were getting at least part of what we needed.

It wasn't the real thing, but it was close enough. Love, through a fish-eye lens.

In the end, it surprised me that she had more pride than I did. In the end, she - perfectly ordinary, and without my supposed insight - saw what I couldn't.

Every step that led me here seemed perfectly reasonable, but now I am in a dark place from which I see no escape. People don't fall from grace all at once. They cross one line at a time. I can only see how far I've descended when I look up and notice that the sun seems so much further away than it used to be.

It was slow and sweet, like going to sleep. It was the dream that I didn't want to awaken from. And now, the light I always wanted to hold has become a star outside my reach.

But I fell once, with a force that still surprises me. I was young, but my eyelids were already drifting closed. He couldn't save me because I didn't want to be saved.

I fell once, truly and completely, and there is no helping me now.

So when missions come my way, I complete them. Even though the level of skill required is insulting, I do my duty because he is the village, and the village is him. That's one of the reasons why they made him the Hokage. He has the strength to forgive and make sacrifices for the ones who hurt him. He has the ability to make people see a different way of being. Every single time, he's proven that he is more than he seems to be.

And more importantly, he makes people want to be more than they are.

So maybe, one day, he'll look at me again. That possibility is enough to make me plunge my hands into the walls of the pit I've dug for myself. Just that, alone, gives me a reason to begin to claw my way back out.

A part of me will always be there in that brightly lit stand, basking in the glow of an almost-friendship, and hesitating on the border of that first line. A part of me will always be waiting for him to hear what I'm scared to say.

And, despite everything that I've done, I hope some small part of him is still there too.

----------------------

AN - I haven't written anything for ages, and when I found a few paragraphs of this kicking around, I thought it might be good to start up slow with something that wouldn't strain my pathetically weak wrists too much. Anyway, I messed with the first part quite a bit to fill it out and mesh it a little better with this. I never planned for a.o.t. to be more than one part, and I guess it isn't really. They are more like two oneshots. Or something.

Maybe one day a long time from now I'll do Naruto's part.

Thanks for bothering to read this,

- V


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